


i was the match and you were the rock

by inquisitioned



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, bb no your life sucks 8(, derek feelings, it could be sterek if you squint i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitioned/pseuds/inquisitioned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed grimly fitting to do this in the Hale house—fire was, after all, one of so few things that could damage a werewolf permanently, and Derek Hale knew that better than anyone in the world.</p><p>title from bastille's "things we lost in the fire"</p>
            </blockquote>





	i was the match and you were the rock

Derek almost thought Stiles was going to stay quiet when Scott had blacked out. It was, of course, a stupid thought, and he shouldn’t have been even remotely surprised when he opened his mouth when the smell of burning flesh stopped sizzling in the room, when the mark on Scott’s arm was as dark and permanent as his triskele. 

It seemed grimly fitting to do this in the Hale house—fire was, after all, one of so few things that could damage a werewolf permanently, and Derek Hale knew that better than anyone in the world. He’d gotten his own tattoo six months after the fire, a firm, burning reminder of everything he’d done, of the lessons his family had taught him, of their memories and their loss. 

 

“So.”

 

He doesn’t get time to dwell, when he’s putting the blowtorch away, and Derek rolls his head to look over at Stiles. The kid’s a jittering mess as usual, but he’s got his arms folded now that he’s been released from his position with Scott, who’s slumped over where he was sitting, eyes closed, but recovering. He looks different—Derek’s kept his distance from the teenagers, more or less, as he looked for Boyd and Erica—and it’s the first time he’s really gotten to match a face to the occasional text message he only rarely answered. (Four AM—“do werewolves have some kind of secret language besides howling? because a cipher would be the most useful thing ever”. Four thirty AM—“why did they have to screw up the green lantern with this movie” ) He’s got long hair now, taller, broader in the shoulders, but still the exact same kid Derek first met, if not looking a little more comfortable in his own shoes. Still a smartass, still hopelessly squeamish (really?), still more limbs and sarcasm and heart than claws and teeth. 

Still so, so human. 

“Where did you find out about the tattoo thing?” Oh, right, he was talking. Derek frowns, pushes himself off the ground, and brushes off his hands, trying to compartmentalize away the smell of burning skin and focus on Stiles instead. 

“It was a tradition in our family.” Simple enough answer. His dad had one, his mom had one, and he had one, although his came from a different reason entirely. Stiles looks like he’s chewing that over for a moment, as if he’s not quite satisfied with it, and his quick brown eyes skitter across the floor, like he’s trying to find the answer somewhere within in the walls of the house. Derek sighs, rolls his head. “If you’re dying to know—”

 

“Two seconds from offing myself.”

“—My sister did it for me.” 

That shut Stiles up for a minute, and Derek turns his gaze away, looking up at the ceiling. It was a bonding ritual—families, siblings pack. And now, he’d done it for Scott, too. (“You and I—we’re brothers now” felt like so long ago, but Derek saw so much of himself in Scott that it literally ached to watch sometimes, took the heart he’d had burned out of him and threatened to make it beat ash again) 

Apparently Stiles gets it. Because he turns to Derek, and for a second, they share a look, and Derek feels vulnerable. But then, the kid’s face breaks out in a little smile, mouth quirked up into a grin, and he shakes his head. “You wanna talk about an initiation rite, dude, that’s as permanent as hell. You two are practically wolf married. “

 

Derek rolls his eyes—siblings don’t get married, he could say, you idiot—but instead, he doesn’t look at Stiles and quips, “Till death do us part.”

Stiles chokes on his laughter, and he has to smother his own grin.


End file.
